A Brother's Vow
by Lydwina Marie
Summary: The twins are separated by a patrol, and Elrohir learns for the first time how painful being alone can be. Dedicated to Ficti0neer.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Elladan is gone.

I had believed we would always be together, foolish, naïve Half-Elf that I am. I am trying to laugh at myself. Adar says it is good to be able to laugh at yourself.

But I cannot.

It is not as though he is gone forever. It is only a patrol. But it is the first time we have been separated for more than mere hours, and it hurts. Adar told me it is always this way when you are a twin, that it always hurts this much... but I was not prepared for this terrible loneliness.

 _Eru,_ I pray for the hundredth time this day, _guide his footsteps home._

* * *

 **A/N:** This fic is dedicated to Ficti0neer, who asked me to write a story about the twins getting separated. The plot belongs to her, the characters and setting to Tolkien, and the writing itself to me. I'm sorry this prologue is so short, but I just wanted to see if you find it interesting or not. :D Enjoy, and please review!

Incidentally, I will be away for the next couple of days, so I won't be responding to PMs or reviews at all. :)


	2. Chapter One

**A/N:** Thanks to AndurilofTolkien, Alku04, and Lady Lindariel for favouriting, and to Erelil Morningstar, Ficti0neer, LadyLindariel, MistressOfImladris, Yorkiemom, and fandommusings for following! And thanks to all who reviewed: Lady Lindariel, AndurilofTolkien, Erelil Morningstar, Celridel, MistressOfImladris, The Star of Elendil, Araloth the Random, Namaste, and Alku04. I hope you enjoy the (shorter) update! Also, I'm not 100% happy with this chapter, by the way, so any feedback would be appreciated.

* * *

 **Chapter One**

 _Brother, you promised you would return._

The one thought repeated itself over and over in Elrohir's head. _You promised to return. You said you would come back._

He exhaled slowly. It had been only a few hours since Elladan had rode away with his patrol, and already he felt lost. For the better part of an hour he had been wandering aimlessly through the halls of Imladris, shoulders drooping, ignoring the worried gazes of the Elves about him. Another wistful sigh escaped his lips before he could stop it, and he glared as it attracted more stares.

"My lord..." It was a younger ellon this time, approaching cautiously. Elrohir swivelled on his heel and levelled the Elf with a glance, challenging him to come any closer.

"What!" he snapped, caring not that more Elves had gathered.

"Are you – is it – " The ellon paused, unnerved by the Peredhil's exasperated face. "Are you all right?"

Elrohir's eyes widened, and his voice rose a tone as he stepped angrily forward. "Do not be ludicrous!"

The ellon retreated hastily. "I only meant..."

Elrohir's advance was checked by a firm hand on his shoulder, and he tensed, eyes sparking. " _Yes_?"

"Elfling," came Glorfindel's level voice, his strong grip on Elrohir tightening as the younger Elf jerked in a vain attempt to escape him. "Come away now before you say something you will regret."

"Shut up!" Elrohir cried furiously, whirling about to face Glorfindel. "You think you are my father, but you're not! I do not need to answer to you! Leave me be!"

Glorfindel's eyebrow rose briefly. He did not speak, but as Elrohir glared, he stepped quietly aside to reveal Elrond. Elrohir's face crumpled in confusion, shame, and finally, anger.

"Let go of me," he hissed, twisting out of his mentor's restraining grip before Glorfindel had a chance to react.

Elrond stepped forward swiftly, his face controlled and impassive as his son faced him stiffly, refusing to meet his eyes. "Elrohir?"

His son's eyes dropped and Elrohir made to turn.

"Look at me," Elrond said softly, a hint of restrained anger evident in his tone. "If he is not your father, then answer to one who is."

There was silence for a moment, the tension nearly palpable. The gathered Elves backed cautiously away, less than eager to be caught between Elrohir's uncontrolled anger and their lord's calm, stony gaze.

"Elrohir," came Elrond's measured voice again. "Answer me."

Elrohir's eyes flew up to meet his father's, but now there was not a spark of shame in their depths, only unconstrained fury coursing through him. His shoulders, rigid and set, straightened as he glared frigidly at Elrond. The silence hung heavily upon the air, unbroken by either, until finally Elrohir snapped.

"I do not answer to you!"

The moment he spoke he regretted having opened his mouth at all. Elrond took an instinctive step back, his eyes confused and hurt as the words sunk in, and in his periphery Elrohir saw Glorfindel step swiftly forward, mouth set in a thin line.

He did not take his words back. He did not wait for Glorfindel to reach him.

He turned and ran.

* * *

The trees flashed by in an unending blur, and Elladan laughed to feel the wind blowing through his hair, tossing it out behind him in a swirl of raven-black. He urged Celos onwards, turning his head to grin at Elcúron beside him. His friend looked uncomfortably similar to Elrohir for a brief second, and he felt a sudden twinge of loneliness. It felt so wrong that Elrohir was not with him, protecting his back – as twins, that was something they were all too used to, and for a moment he felt like an elfling, lost and alone.

"Elladan!"

Elcúron's voice shook the Peredhil from his morose brooding, and he glanced up quickly, startled.

"Are you all right?" Elcúron slowed and studied him, eyes a little concerned.

Elladan paused, controlling himself swiftly, and then he spurred Celos on with a laugh, his merry smile returning to grace his features. "Of course I am fine! Now come on, before we earn ourselves a tongue lashing from Eldrast for falling behind!"

Through wood and stream the Elven patrol passed, like grey shadows in the twilight. A squirrel skittered through the underbrush, startled by the horses, and darted up a tree. Then all was silent but for the gentle song of a stream and the wind sighing through the branches.

* * *

Night fell slowly upon Imladris and shrouded the Valley in shadows. The sky was heavily clouded, and the dryness in the air foreboded rain. All was silent and still, the grasses untouched by any traces of a breeze, the trees standing like dark sentinels over the slumbering House below.

Elrohir lay on his back, eyes half-closed as he gazed up at the sky. The abandoned gardens were peaceful and quiet, calming his troubled mind, and the anger he had felt before now fled from him, leaving only shame and remorse in its place.

Evening meandered onwards, and the humidity in the air increased. Elrohir shifted uncomfortably, turning onto his side and pillowing his head on his arm.

 _Elladan?_

He voiced his thought, no more than a whisper in the night, relaxing as his brother's fëa melded reassuringly with his.

 _I miss you._

Elrohir's eyes glazed, his heart secure in the knowledge that Elladan was well. And as the storm broke over Imladris he slept, heedless of the thunder's rumble, or the lightening as it flashed brilliantly through the heavens.

 _Be safe._


	3. Chapter Two

**A/N:** Thanks to all who reviewed, and especially to Celridel for beta-reading this chapter. You're the best!

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

Elladan stirred sleepily, kicking at the blanket covering him until it slipped off his legs. He groped for his pillow, confused when, instead of soft down, his hand met firm ground. Puzzled, he sat up and rubbed his eyes, then let out a yelp of surprise. The sun was rising straight in his eyes, the crimson sky streaked with translucent clouds lingering from the night's storm. At the moment, however, the Peredhil could not have been less interested in the beauties of dawn – in fact, he could barely see.

A snort of laughter distracted Elladan, and he stopped rubbing at his eyes in favour of glaring balefully at Elcúron.

"What is so amusing?" he demanded testily.

Elcúron raised his hands swiftly in surrender, but he was unable to resist a teasing jab as Elladan went back to carefully tending his face. "Nothing but your look of anguish, mellon-nín," he grinned. "That is all."

Elladan glared again, having regained his sight, and turned back to his blankets, falling upon his back with a sigh.

"Elcúron?"

"Mm." His friend was busy refolding his own blankets and stuffing them haphazardly into his pack.

"I am cold."

Now Elcúron turned to face the Peredhil, cocking an eyebrow. "You might make use of your blankets, then."

Elladan sighed, returning his gaze to the dawning sky. The sun was rising steadily; the others would be up soon, and the wonderful peace of early morning would be shattered. He determined to treasure the silence while it lasted.

It was strange, he thought silently, waking up somewhere besides his bed back home. He had been on short trips with Glorfindel and Elrohir before, of course, but they had never lasted any longer than a day at most. Now he was on a patrol – free, away from the watchful eye of his father for the first time in his life!

He heaved a sigh and shifted to his side, gazing back through the woods. The Elven stallions wandered unhindered through the trees, never straying too far from the camp, and a ways off, he heard a shrill whinny, swiftly followed by another.

Elrohir would have loved this, he realised. Travelling outside the borders of Imladris, beyond the protection of their father's Ring – he would have revelled in the freedom. Even now Elladan's heart lifted at the prospect of galloping through the trees, over flower-strewn swards with the wind in his hair and his home at his back.

"It is not all freedom."

Elladan started, caught by surprise at the interruption. Eldrast stood nearby, gazing out over the expanse of woodland about them, ringing them in on all sides.

"Excuse me?" he questioned, uncertain if Eldrast had been addressing him or not. The other Elves were rising now as well, digging in their packs for food, and it could have been to any of them that their captain spoke.

Eldrast turned and flashed him a brief smile. "I said, it is not all you think it is."

Elladan sat up, his eyes never leaving Eldrast's face. "I do not think I understand, my captain."

There was a brief moment of silence, and then Eldrast came to sit nearby, plucking idly at a stem of grass.

"It is peaceful now," he said finally. "The sky is blue and the sun is rising, and there is nothing to worry about. But..." He paused, nailing Elladan with a single glance. "Would you think the same, young one, if the sky were darkened with impenetrable clouds – if the stillness was torn with cries of pain and horror, and if the sweet scent of flowers were drowned beneath the stench of blood and death? Would you then wish to be beyond Imladris's protection? Would you not long for the gentle harmony of song, of living waters crashing from cliffs to mossy streams? You would not stay." His voice softened, and his eyes glazed as he relived some ancient memory, of times long gone; and Elladan sat, entranced, heedless of the Elves as they prepared their steeds for another day of hard riding.

"Nay," Eldrast repeated, "you would flee... and many would follow you, I deem. You would flee from the carnage, from death and hatred and bloodshed, and you would seek refuge in the safety of your home until the Shadow itself came to your doorstep and you could ignore it no longer."

His voice faded, and he rose to his feet, holding out his hand to help the younger Elf stand. He turned to leave, but even as he swung himself upon his horse, he bent close to Elladan and gazed deeply into his eyes.

"That is not freedom, Peredhil," he said in a low voice. "That is fear, and I would do all in my power to rid you of it."

And Elladan stared after him, his naïveté forgotten – or perhaps it was lost, stolen away into some dark recess of his being; and he no longer regretted that his brother had not been chosen.

* * *

The first thing Elrohir noticed when he awoke was that he was wet to the very skin.

The second was that he was crying.

Alone in the darkness, the tears trickled slowly down his rain-slicked cheeks as he gazed numbly into the greyness of early dawn. A chill breeze blew through the garden and he shivered, wrapping his arms about himself as he slowly sat up. Beyond the hedges and paths rose the House, but as soon as his eyes fell upon it, the memories came flooding back. Flushed with humiliation and shame, Elrohir dragged himself out of sight and huddled under the shelter of an overhanging bush.

He had shouted at Glorfindel, and the other ellon, and he had hurt his father with words that were not even true... they must be furious at him.

The wind whistled through the branches – a cold, lonely sound, and Elrohir shivered again. He threw another glance towards the silent House. It was still very early – perhaps no one was up yet, and he could find his own room without being noticed.

He struggled to his feet, wiping his wet cheeks with his sleeve, and made his way cautiously towards the House. So many times he had wandered these gardens before, in full sight of the Elves within, but now he crept towards the door like a thief, with none of the old assurances of love and respect. He slipped through like a shadow, stopping to assess his surroundings before continuing. The hall was utterly abandoned, lit only by a few sconces burning in niches along the wall, and his uneasy breathing was the only sound that broke the silence.

With a sigh, he fell against the wall and rubbed his temples tiredly. He could feel a headache growing behind his eyes, and the hall swirled dizzily about him. He let out a soft groan and buried his head in his hands.

Pushing himself off the wall with an effort, Elrohir made his way slowly down the hall towards his room. Outside, the sun was rising steadily, and he could hear muffled movements behind the doors as the Elves began to stir. Elrohir quickened his pace, shivering uncontrollably as the dampness of his clothes seeped into his skin. A cough forced its way from his mouth though he tried to stifle it with his hand, and he winced as his throat stung.

With one hand, he pushed his door open and stepped inside. The room was ensconced in darkness, but someone stood by the window, and as he turned, Elrohir retreated in confusion. He was not thinking clearly – he must have entered the wrong room by mistake...

Then, "Elrohir?" came his father's soft voice, breaking the heavily silence. Elrohir flushed miserably, grateful for the darkness that concealed his bedraggled state.

"A-Adar?" His voice came out cracked and trembling, and any hopes he had entertained of escaping quickly vanished.

"I have been waiting for you," Elrond said quietly, coming a step nearer, and then another. His sharp eyes took in Elrohir's sagging shoulders, exhaustion written in every line of his son's figure.

Elrohir's head jerked up, and he met his father's eyes for a brief second. "I – " He paused, massaging his temples with his fingertips. "I must have come to the wrong room... I am sorry."

He turned swiftly to leave, but a firm hand on his shoulder pulled him back. "Elrohir," Elrond said evenly. "You are soaking wet."

Elrohir cringed at the coldness in his father's tone, but he did not dare to try to escape. "I slipped," he offered feebly. "I think... it rained... last night... and I fell..."

Elrond raised an eyebrow, stepping in closer as his son wavered unsteadily.

"I will go clean up, Adar," Elrohir said tiredly. "I am dripping all over the floor."

He stepped back as Elrond let his hand slip from his shoulder, but his head was now throbbing mercilessly, and he fell heavily against the door jamb. He did not even try to get up again, sliding to the floor and curling into a miserable ball, squeezing his eyes shut as he shivered helplessly. He barely comprehended the feeling of being lifted, or of nimble hands unfastening his tunic and wrapping warm blankets about his trembling body, or of a voice urgently calling his name. He did not feel strong arms lifting him against a warm chest, rocking him as loving eyes torn with worry gazed into his, before his own slipped shut once more.

There was only blackness.


	4. Chapter Three

**A/N:** I know that Elves don't get sick with such trivial things as colds (#envious), but for the sake of this chapter I changed that a bit. Call it artistic license or AU, whichever you prefer. ;) Again, thank you Celridel for helping me with this!

Also, thanks to all who favourited: Thaishi, Rose61393, and Dark-Zeblock; and those who followed: Rose61393 and Dark-Zeblock. I'm so glad you've enjoyed my story so far!

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

The fiery embers glowed among the black ashes of the fireplace, the one light illuminating the room. Outside, the wind moaned and pressed against the window, struggling to force it's way in and crush the last of the fire in an icy caress. A few sparks leapt from the depths of the fire and fell to ashes upon the woven rug.

A cough, smothered but rattling, broke the silence, and the flames crackled to life once more, as if on cue. Someone stirred and moaned. There was another fit of coughing, less muffled this time, and then a gentle voice spoke softly, soothing the other.

Elrohir fell back into Elrond's comforting arms, shivering despite the warmth of the blankets. His hand groped about on the coverlet, as though he sought something just out of his reach. Gentle fingers closed about his and tightened, while the other hand moved to his forehead to check for fever.

"Elladan..." came the weak murmur, half-drowned by the crackling of the fire.

"Hush, Elrohir," Elrond soothed again, rubbing Elrohir's back as the harsh coughing convulsed his son's body once more.

 _It was a foolish idea for Elladan to leave,_ the Peredhel thought regretfully. _Their bond is too strong and Elrohir is too weak._ He sighed, passing his hand over Elrohir's forehead and wiping the sweat from the cold brow. He knew the pain far too well himself.

Elrohir stirred, his fingers tightening about Elrond's wrist as he fought to hide the coughing that rose, cruel and sharp, in his throat. Elrond sat in the silence, struggling to comfort his son.

 _Bring Elladan's footsteps home, Lord Ilúvatar, and soon and safely, I pray. Elrohir needs him._

The chilling wind blew on, it's mournful wail echoing throughout the empty, darkened hallways. The fire flickered one last time and died, and the only light now bloomed from the small candle beside the bed. Elrond gazed into the night, striving to pierce the blackness with his eyes, but it withheld itself from him, and the darkness wore on.

When morning came at last, clear and bright in the embrace of the sun, the shadows beneath the lord's eyes showed he had not slept at all.

* * *

The air was chilly, biting at Elladan's unprotected face as he galloped against the wind, but the light-hearted spirits of the Elves had dimmed. Now they rode in haste through the trees, faces tense as they bent low over their horses. Beside him and a little ahead, Elcúron reached swiftly into his quiver and stroked the fletching of an arrow, ensuring it was well within his reach.

It had been a few moments – or more? Elladan could not tell – since the air had changed. The forest air had become mustier, danker, and finally it had been overrun entirely with a foul stench. Eldrast had only quickened their pace, veering to the left and urging their horses on even faster.

Elladan glanced apprehensively about himself. Even though he had never really come face to face with it before, he sensed danger near at hand, and the claustrophobic atmosphere only increased as he was ordered into the center of the group, protected on all sides. His stomach lurched as he realised what the Elves were doing. Orcs loved tormenting young captives in particular... and if it came to a fight, he would be the one they sought above all others.

Sensing his discomfort, Elcúron sent his younger friend an encouraging smile; one which, for the first time, Elladan was unable to return. Darkness encroached upon his consciousness, nearly a tangible sensation – if fear could be seen, then it was rolling off him in palpable waves. He shivered again, urging Celos deeper amongst the Elves.

"Captain!"

Eldrast turned his head for the briefest of seconds, but it was enough. Dark figures lurked conspicuously in the underbrush, passing to and fro in full view, and a little beyond, Elladan could easily hear heavy footsteps crunching over the leafy forest floor. In his periphery he saw Elcúron reach for his bow and unfasten it from his quiver in one fluid motion, never slowing his horse's pace.

"Elcúron!" Eldrast's voice was sharp. "Do not bother shooting. Head for the plains; we have the chance to outpace them there, if necessary."

If they had not had a young recruit in their midst, there would have been no question about fighting. But although Glorfindel had recommended Elladan himself, Eldrast was not overly sure of the young Elf's fighting capabilities, and there was no mistaking the blatant fear in Elladan's eyes at the sighting of the Orcs. He had seen the same look in the eyes of many Elves before on the eve of their first battle.

The wind's current shifted, blowing from behind now, flying the rough Orcish voices like taunting echo to their ears. Turning his head briefly, Elladan shivered. The air swirled chilly, flecked with mist in the early afternoon. The sun faded, trapped behind oppressive storm clouds, and with renewed urgency the Elves urged their steeds onwards. The trees flew by in a haze, and ahead of them Elladan could see the forest thinning out to give way to wide, grassy plains. They were almost safe!

Then a shout broke through the air, and Celos reared, nearly throwing his rider. Elladan's cry echoed seconds after as he struggled to regain his seating, scrapes flecking his cheeks where the branches had slashed against his face. Ahead Eldrast whirled, firing a brisk order.

 _"Daro!"_

An Elf lay on the ground, struggling against the Orc that stood over him, grasping frantically at the hilt of the dagger that had been thrown with him. A fearsome light gleamed in the creature's yellowed eyes, and it kicked the knife away, out of the Elf's reach.

Elladan barely saw the next few seconds. There was a cry, desperate and urgent, but it did not come from the Elf on the ground. A golden blur flashed by, blades gleaming in the dim rays of light – there was one last guttural shriek, and then...

"Move!" Eldrast panted as he dragged the trembling Elf towards his horse. "Make for the plains!"

But it was too late. The dying Orc's cry had drawn the others, and the bushes crackled. The horses shifted restlessly, and the Elves looked to Eldrast.

"Elladan!" The captain's voice was sharp. "To my side."

As the dark-haired Elf moved uncertainly forwards, the other Elves swiftly formed a circle about the two, hemming them in on all sides.

"Your brother should not envy you," Eldrast murmured to Elladan, his words soft in the tense silence.

The snarls filled the air, surrounding them, but Elladan did not hear them.

 _Elrohir..._

It was the first time he had sought to open their bond since his departure, but had it not always been thus – that one twin leaned on the other, that one encouraged the other... that they were always there? He sensed an undercurrent of loneliness that his brother sought to conceal, but he could not miss what preyed on his own mind as he struggled to sleep – the thought that he woke to, that he slept to. He knew Elrohir had not willingly accepted their separation, that he fought against it even now. He himself had accepted it at last as a part of life, and he knew that someday his twin would realise the same. Elrohir's thoughts echoed now through his head as though they stood side-by-side.

 _Be safe, Elladan._

He would not show Elrohir his fear. He would be strong.

 _You promised you would return._

Elladan smiled then, and the glint in his eyes hardened to icy steel. There was a metallic scrape as Eldrast drew his sword from its sheath.

 _Take a deep breath. Relax._

Elladan drew his sword, gazing at the sleek blade yet unstained by blood and death. He could see the first of the Orcs springing through the trees, and he turned so his back faced the open plains, the last of the sun's rays flaring over them as the afternoon faded to dusk.

He willed the tension from his body and sat up straight, a proud figure amongst the Elves about him. The Orcs came to steal his life, his friends, his family... to crush them, to slay them.

They would not stand.

 _I promise, brother. I will return._


	5. Chapter Four

**A/N: Finally, this is the last chapter! I'm horribly sorry for the delay in updating, but it really couldn't be helped – in my defence, this is a longer chapter, and I'm quite proud of it.**

 **I hope you enjoy, and please review!**

* * *

 **Chapter Four**

The darkness lifted. Hooves pounded in the dawn, and the happy song of the birds rose merrily above it, tweeting and chirping in the warm morning air. The breeze caught long strands of the Elves' hair, blowing with their speed, and their faces were bright and happy.

The battle had gone well, Elladan reflected. In the end their lines had held, and the Orcs had charged only to be caught upon the glittering swords of the Elves. Death had come swiftly, for the Firstborn refused to torture, and they caused as little pain as they could. The Orcs had fought long and desperately, but they could not stand. They had fallen upon the grassy plain, surrounded by rock and tree and bright-eyed foes, and their foul blood had stained the land.

The Peredhel breathed in a sigh, verging on the solid side of tremulous. He could still feel the darkness, hear the cries, see the dreadful sight of death and boundless cruelty fixed in his mind forever. Elrohir had chafed at the delay in being delegated to the patrols, but Elladan could not pity him. Instead, he found, he envied him. His younger brother had not yet seen what hate could do to a fellow being, nor had he felt more pressing a danger than Glorfindel's wrath after one of their pranks. Elladan felt a sudden need to guard his twin, to protect him from the shadow of innocence lost – to keep him safely within the secured borders of Imladris. But in his heart he knew it was not possible. Elrohir was a warrior – untried, perhaps, but a fighter nonetheless. It would not do to keep him from the service of his home.

"Captain!" Elcúron galloped up to Eldrast's side through the trees. "The way to Imladris is clear. We should not be hindered."

"Good!" Eldrast smiled a little, his eyes flitting back to where Elladan rode behind him, and he lowered his voice. "My lord shall be pleased."

The younger Elf met his stare and held it, confused. Eldrast's mouth quirked and he turned to face the west, meeting the newly-risen sun.

"Homewards!" he called, and at the sound of his voice, his stallion reared beneath him, cleaving the air with its mighty hooves. The Elves rode onwards, clothed in mist and shadow, and the sunrays soared over the land.

* * *

"Elrohir, come back here!" Erestor willed all his frustration into his tone, striding forwards only to be met by the door slamming in his face. He twirled the knob exasperatedly, pushing the door open and hurrying through after the stumbling Peredhel. "Your father will be very displeased!"

"My father is already displeased with me." Elrohir's voice was strained and unsteady as he began to descend the stairs, ignoring the advisor's sigh. He shivered a little, trying to breathe through the incessant pounding in his head.

Erestor stopped at the top of the staircase, gazing down at the younger Elf. Elrohir was clutching the banister tightly with one hand as he descended the steps, but the advisor could see the uncontrolled trembling of the taut muscles in the twin's shoulders. Elrohir was not well, he rebuked himself. He should not be allowing him to leave!

He tried one last time. "Please, Elrohir..."

The twin shook his head, refusing to turn as he reached the bottom of the stairs and hobbled towards the door. The walls swam before his eyes and he reached the door in a rush, leaning heavily against it.

"Away!" he snapped as Erestor began descending the stairs hurriedly. He would have turned to glare at the advisor had he less respect for Erestor's self control, which he knew was tried nearly to the breaking point already.

Straightening up, he made his way doggedly out the door and into the mocking sunshine of midmorning. There were very few Elves about, for which he belatedly realised he was grateful, but the heady aroma of the fresh flowers nearly overpowered him, filling his nose and consciousness like incense. He drew in a great gulp of fresh air and made his way unsteadily through the gardens and out into the woods beyond.

Elladan had been sent with the eastern patrol to scout the perimeter of Imladris' forests. He would be returning this way, Elrohir was certain, and if he were not, the younger twin was not exactly sure what he would do. His brother was the only reason he was still standing; if Elladan were not returning soon he was not sure he could have summoned the willpower to rise from his bed.

The forest was practically silent as he hurried unsteadily through the trees. A rabbit hopped through the underbrush and jumped out before him, and Elrohir bit back a startled cry as he stumbled backwards. Their eyes met – the animal and the Elf, but it was only for a moment. Then the rabbit dived back into the welcoming shelter of a few bushes, leaving only a faint rustling in its wake.

Elrohir took a deep breath, willing away the painful throbbing in his head. He was tired –almost unbearably so, but he could not give up now. He was so close!

At last he came out into a glade where the trees had thinned to make way for open plains. From the position of the sun he judged that it was nearly noon – he had still a few hours till twilight, he realised with a sigh. A few hours until the thundering of hooves heralded the arrival of the patrol, until the call of clear voices echoed in his ears – until he saw his brother come riding in the sunset, the fading rays at his back and a light in his grey-flecked eyes. Only a few hours until he could hold his brother, could lean against him and whisper how he had missed him.

 _Too long. It is too long._

Three days it had been since Elladan had ridden away without a backward glance, thrilled to be part of a patrol at last. He had not know how his brother had felt – his younger brother by but a few moments, which Elrohir still stubbornly disputed. Perhaps he had not cared that they were separated!

A shuddering sigh escaped the younger twin's throat, and he lowered himself to sit against a slender tree, wrapping trembling arms about himself.

Perhaps Elladan would no longer think the same of him. Perhaps the excitement of his first patrol had robbed him of the desire to stay with his twin, to play pranks and then hide, laughing hysterically as they waited for the victim's wrath to die down. But he did not care, Elrohir decided. He did not care whether Elladan ignored him, or if they eyes that gazed upon him were filled with arrogance. He would wait.

* * *

The darkness came swiftly, dusk falling nearly without warning; and with it came the biting chill of late summer. Elladan drew his cloak tighter about his shoulders. They were nearing the borders of Imladris – the woods were already in sight, and the Elves galloped in a straight line towards it, desiring only food and fire to warm them and ease away the cold.

The shadow of the trees drew ever closer, and Elladan spurred Celos eagerly onwards, chafing to be home once more. He missed the comfort of a soft bed, of fresh food, but even more he longed for the sound of his father's gentle laugh, of loving arms welcoming him home, and the grin of warm grey eyes in a face identical to his own, more familiar than the very breath in his body.

"Home," he whispered aloud, tasting the word on his tongue and feeling excitement burn through his body as the first of the trees engulfed him. He could not wait to reach Imladris, to tell the tale of his first battle, perhaps even to brag a little. He could not wait to see the admiration in Elrohir's eyes and the pride in his father's.

He could not wait to be _home._

* * *

Elrohir heard it at first as a faint rumbling, deep within the earth. Then it became louder, approaching him, filling the air, and there were hooves, and voices echoed Elven-clear in the dusk. He started dizzily to his feet, the pace of his heart speeding a little.

 _They are coming!_

He could see the first of them now, drawing near through the shadows. His aching head cleared a little, making way for excited thoughts and hopes. He stepped forward eagerly, standing a little to the side as he waited.

The first horse swept by him, and then the next, and the next. Their heads were covered in light cloaks, and he could not see their faces. Confused, he watched them as he passed, only summoning the energy to speak as the last horse galloped by, bearing its rider proudly upon its back.

Then he found his voice, as the trees on the far edge of the clearing surrounded them, hiding them from his view.

"E-Elladan?"

The lonely hoot of an owl answered him, and a fading echo, and the darkness thickened about him as silence fell upon the woods.

* * *

The patrol dissembled at the courtyard, leaping from their horses in the warm glow of the torches. Out of the corner of his eye Elladan saw the doors of the House open, and then many figures streamed out and milled about, eagerly awaiting their return.

When at last the Peredhel turned from his horse, Elrond stood quietly before him, a smile gracing his features and his eyes shining in the near darkness.

"Adar!" he exclaimed happily, closing the distance between them in a step and letting his father's arms enfold him.

"I am glad you have returned, ion-nín," Elrond murmured softly into his son's hair. "We have missed you."

He drew back at last to assess his oldest son with a critical eye. "You are not injured at all, are you?"

Elladan shook his head, still grinning delightedly. "I am well, Adar. Where is Elrohir?"

The smile faded from his father's face, and a frown crept onto his forehead. "Elladan..."

"My lords!"

Both Elves whirled to face Erestor hurrying down the steps towards them. The raven-haired advisor's face was worried, urgency ringing in his voice as he skidded to a stop before them.

"Erestor!" Elrond surveyed his old friend concernedly. "What is the matter?"

"It is Elrohir," Erestor gasped breathlessly. "He left... for the woods... he is not well..."

Elladan's eyes widened, and he turned swiftly to gaze into the inky blackness of the forest at their backs. "He _left_?"

Erestor nodded hastily. "I tried to stop him, but..." He broke off as the older twin leaped onto his horse and, hesitating only a second, galloped through the gates.

Elladan was tense as he rode swiftly under the trees. Light had completely left the sky, and he could not see the path, but Celos was sure-footed and guided him safely through the night. He could see his twin in his mind, waiting, calling...

"Elrohir!" His voice echoed through the air, breaking the silence of nightfall, but no answer came. He called again and again, his voice becoming increasingly worried as the moments wore by. He was nearing the edge of the forest now, he could tell. How much farther would his brother have gone? Waiting alone in the darkness for so long, not knowing when, or even if, he would come this way... and he had ridden straight past Elrohir, not so much as noticing him in the shadows. Elladan swore under his breath and spurred Celos on harder.

"Elrohir?" he cried again, listening closely for a response. There was nothing.

He was about to call once more when a faint whisper flowed through his veins, reawakening a dormant space in his heart. He dug his heels into Celos's side. " _Elrohir_!"

 _El-Elladan?_

Elladan slid from his horse's back and gazed about himself. He stood in a wide clearing at the edge of the trees, and the shadows swirled about him, the stars bright in the night sky.

He did not know whether he spoke aloud, or if his words were but a whisper through their bond. _Brother, where are you?_

"El..."

He heard it plainly this time, a faint sigh colouring the air across from him. Without waiting an instant, Elladan strode hastily over to the slumped figure on the ground beneath the tree. "Elrohir!"

This time no answer reached his ears as he knelt over his fallen twin. Trembling fingers drew back his brother's hood, revealing the pale face below, eyes closed, lines of exhaustion and pain etched on his brow. His heart thudded hastily as his fingers groped for his little brother's throat, feeling the erratic pulse that throbbed there.

At last, fever-bright eyes flickered open to meet his worried gaze. Dry lips parted to form a word, but Elladan never heard it. The eyes fluttered shut once more, Elrohir's chest heaving as he struggled to draw in breath.

"Elrohir," Elladan murmured, his voice catching as he slid his arms beneath his twin and lifted him, ever so gently. Tears stung his eyes as he felt the hot forehead pressed against his neck, but his worry flared to life as the inert body in his arms seized, heavy coughing forcing its way straight from Elrohir's lungs. He straightened at once, holding his brother upright as he coughed helplessly.

"El... ladan..." Elrohir gasped at last, his eyes flying open as warm arms rocked him, soothing him tenderly. "Please... El..."

"Hush," Elladan said softly. "Rest, _gwanur-nín_. I am here."

Elrohir tried to lie still, but the trembling in his arms and legs was getting worse. "Missed you..."

"I know," Elladan whispered. "Hush now. I am bringing you home."

Tears rose to Elrohir's feverish eyes, and he buried his face in Elladan's shoulder, as if to convince himself that his brother was real. The pain in his head flared to life as Elladan rose carefully to his feet and approached the horse.

"Down, Celos." Elladan kept his voice soft for Elrohir's sake. "I will need you to step carefully, _mellon-nín,_ if you would."

As Celos crouched on his hind legs, Elladan swung himself lightly up, pulling his twin more closely against him. Despite his care, a tiny whimper escaped Elrohir's throat, and one restless hand twined itself firmly in his hair. Elladan winced a little, but did not object, and beneath him Celos rose carefully and took a hesitant step forward.

"Noro lim!" Elladan called, urging Celos onwards with a squeeze of his knees. The mighty horse gathered its muscles and leaped forward through the night, flying past both shadow and darkness.

Elladan remembered little of the ride through the forest, conscious only of his brother's feverish body clasped tightly in his arms. The lights of the courtyard flickered past him in a blur as they drew up before the House and swung down, Celos steaming with sweat.

"Adar!" Elladan called loudly, half-running up the steps to the door. The halls were empty and abandoned, the only light coming from the sconces in niches along the walls. In his arms Elrohir stirred uncomfortably and moaned, coughing a little, and then fell silent once again. Glancing down in concern, Elladan quickened his pace.

"Ad – " Elladan broke off as he nearly ran into his father. "He is sick..."

His brief explanation was unnecessary. Upon discovering Elrohir's departure, Elrond had prepared the family's private healing room, convinced from his son's earlier condition that it would be needed. Now he scooped Elrohir from Elladan's arms and hurried through the open door, feeling with growing concern the heat of Elrohir's face against his shoulder.

"Fetch cloths, and water," he ordered. "And a night tunic from his room. I need to get him out of these clothes."

He called his son's name softly as Elladan ran from the room, stroking the loose sweaty hair from Elrohir's damp forehead.

" _Elrohir, títhen-pen, wake up..."_

* * *

Elrohir awoke at last to a blessed warmth about him. He moved cautiously, but the dizziness that followed lasted only a moment. The sun streamed in the open windows, the gleaming rays bright against the backdrop of mossy cliffs and tumbling waterfalls.

He shifted, a little confused. The last he remembered, he had been shivering alone in the woods – no, there was a vague memory of warm arms, a soothing whisper, and then dim lights mixed with soft words in a voice he was quite sure he should recognise. Then the blackness had come rolling back, and the last thing he remembered doing was crying out one name.

His twin's name.

Elladan.

"Aye?"

Elrohir's head jerked up, and he stared in shock. The bright light from the windows blinded him momentarily before his eyes cleared, and he made out a slender figure next to his bed, smiling a little sadly, it seemed. Glossy ebony hair was drawn back into one thick braid, thrown carelessly over one shoulder, and grey eyes, like the skies at dusk, gazed down at him.

His tongue was suddenly dry, his mouth opening without any sound escaping. He forced down the sudden rush of emotions that arose, and looked away, unable to stand the steady gaze of his brother.

"Elrohir." Elladan dropped to his knees beside the bed, wrapping warm fingers about his twin's and turning Elrohir's face towards him with his other hand. "Do not ignore me, please."

Elrohir drew in a deep breath. "I am not..." His voice trembled, but he was unable to turn from Elladan's intent gaze.

"Then why do you look away?" Elladan's voice was soft, compassionate even, and Elrohir let out a barely audible, shaky sigh as his twin rose to sit on the bed beside him. He laced their fingers more tightly together, almost afraid to look up.

"Tell me."

Elrohir's eyes blurred, but he tried anyways. "I thought... you would not..." He trailed off, unable to continue as Elladan's eyes flashed understanding. He looked down quickly, fighting to retain control over his tried composure.

"You thought... I would not desire your company anymore," Elladan finished softly. Elrohir nodded hesitantly, eyeing the pattern on the quilt as though his life depended on it. "But Elrohir..." He paused, not sure of how to continue, and tightened his grip on his brother's fingers as Elrohir tried to pull away. "Why?"

Elrohir bit his cheek uncomfortably, flexing his fingers in Elladan's tight grasp, but his brother held on firmly. "You – you – oh, Valar," he sighed. "I thought, well, that I was too young... naïve..." He was painfully aware of the inadequacy of his words, and dared a quick glance at his brother just before Elladan's arms enfolded him ever so gently.

"Brother," Elladan whispered against Elrohir's dark head, "I envy your innocence."

Elrohir turned in his arms, startled. "What?"

Elladan sighed, leaning back against the headboard and gazing out the window into the sky. It was so easy to think about, he reflected, but when he tried to explain it came out all wrong.

A gentle breeze swept his hair lightly from his shoulders, but Elrohir's clung to his sweat streaked fever-warm cheeks, and Elladan gently wove the dark strands through his fingers as he tried to explain.

"I was like you when I left," he began hesitantly. "You know that. But then the freedom, the open plains, the wind in my hair... it was different, and I loved it – for a while I did not even miss you." He felt Elrohir cringe against him, regretting the words as soon as they came out. "But at night..." He tightened his arms, rocking his weary brother slowly; "At night it was you I saw – your thoughts I heard. And everything changed; I felt the danger that stalks the outer world, beyond Imladris, and I saw for the first time the darkness that mortals dread."

His eyes closed as he remembered the first time night had closed on him for real, when he finally realised that there was evil in the world, and it hated him passionately. His first taste of death. His first kill, seeing black blood trickle slowly off his blade as an Orc fell writhing to the ground, and then desperate retching behind the trees as the other Elves wearily piled the Orc bodies in a heap and set it afire. The rising smoke mixed with the grey air of dusk, and the foul smell of death and blood merged with the crackling of the fire.

If only Elrohir would never have to experience it...

"I am glad to be home," he finished softly at last as Elrohir looked up with questioning eyes, dimming with fatigue. "Glad to be with Adar, and Arwen, and you." He smiled as Elrohir's mouth quirked slightly, relief etched on his features. "Now sleep, brother. You are weary."

As he watched his brother peacefully sleep, cradled close within his embrace, Elladan forgot for a brief moment the guilt of taking another's life, and the darkness of a true nightfall. He was weary as well, but he would not rest now. Not yet. Now all he wanted was to hold his brother, to protect the all-too-precious innocence that the Valar had placed in his protection until it was lost.

There was darkness in every corner of the world, but light remained in the valley of Imladris. He would not allow it to fade, he swore. If battle came, he would fight– he and his brother at his back, the love of those they treasured spurring them onwards. If true darkness came and sorrow fell upon the valley, he would hold Elrohir, wipe the tears away and comfort his brother as they grieved together.

It had not come yet. And until it did he would stay here, content with his family in the warmth and light of a haven yet untouched by the evils of a dark land and shadows.

FINIS


End file.
